


The Cost of Caring

by EmeraldSage



Series: The Price of Your Heart [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred gets Kidnapped, Alternate Universe - Organized Crime, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kidnapping, M/M, Oh just read the damned thing, Prequel to the currently unpublished first story?, Side Story, Sneaky Brats, This little shit kept me up for HOURS, Traipsing around Europe, eh, i hope you're happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 12:50:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10899708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSage/pseuds/EmeraldSage
Summary: Based on this prompt: It’s 3am. Your partner gets out of bed to use the restroom, after they return to bed and you are drifting back to sleep, you are surprised by a knock at the bedroom door. It’s your partner … asking why the door is locked.Set two years before "The Weight of a Name"





	The Cost of Caring

**Author's Note:**

> This is done. Holy Fuck, this is DONE. Usagi323, thank you darling for helping me get through this and letting me rant out to you, much love ^^!  
> This literally drained me so much to write, but I know everyone really wanted to see a continuation of the prompt I posted up on tumblr, so here y'all are. It took a few months, but in less that 12 hours, this went from 600 words to goddamnit 4600. Just WHAT. THAT...argh.

            Alfred was snoozing contentedly when he felt Ivan get up from the bed. He stirred briefly, but allowed himself to be hushed to sleep again when he heard the familiar footsteps head out into the hallway bathroom. Ivan could drink vodka for ages and be totally unaffected, but the moment he hit the hay…well, there was a reason they’d been looking into apartments with an en-suite. Passing out on the couch for easier access to the bathroom was just not fun with that much alcohol in your system.

            He sighed when he heard near silent steps re-enter the bedroom and shut the door. A familiar weight settles at his side, and a possessive arm was thrown across his waist, pinning him to the other man settling into the bed. He hummed contentedly, sinking further into the depths of warmth and bliss. He loved sleeping with Ivan (and in this case he meant just sleeping, though certainly, he was rather fond of the other alternative as well).

            There was a knock on the bedroom door, what felt like hours later. His brows furrowed as the sound repeated itself, pulling him from the long, deep sleep he’d been about to immerse himself into.

            “Fredka?” a worried voice came from behind the door, and he felt something in him freeze. “Fredka, why is the door locked? Is everything alright?”

            Ivan?

            But Ivan was in bed with him, he though, brows furrowed sleepily. The arm around his waist tightened, as if in agreement, and he felt his heart jerk.

            “Fredka?” the knob rattled, and his heart raced. “Alfred? This isn’t funny, _dorogoy_. When did you get up? I didn’t hear you move.”

            Because _Alfred_ hadn’t.

            He shot up, pushing himself upright, but the arm around his waist - and presumably, whomever the arm belonged to - held him still, and prevented him from turning to see just who’d managed to sneak into his bed.

            “Bit of a worrier, isn’t he?” a voice murmured into his ear, and his breath hitched. A hand slid up his leg and settled on his upper thigh, and he felt his face burn even as ice pulsed through his veins. “Admittedly, it’s not without reason. Don’t worry kid, I’m not going to hurt you.”

            A hand clapped over his mouth before he registered that he’d opened it to scream.

* * *

           Red eyes grinned at their unconscious captive. That had been easier than he thought it would be, even though a lot of intensive planning had gone into making it that easy. He’d gotten _very_ lucky, though; his captive had obviously been living outside the Underground long enough that he’d lost quite a bit of his caution, which had allowed him to perform the retrieval with a greater level of ease than he would’ve normally. He’d, hopefully, be able to perform the delivery with the same level of ease. And _then_ , his mind flashed back to somber sunset eyes, the cold, shuttered way the heir had delivered his proposal, and the _prize_ he’d been promised…he’d be _vastly_ rewarded.

            _This would be awesome_.

            He’d made a living off of catching wayward runaways for their families, despite his sympathies for the brats themselves. How hard could another one be, he’d thought? Only, this wasn’t just another brat he was retrieving. This was the most successful runaway he’d ever dealt with. This runaway had evaded the Underground as a whole for three years. This runaway had evaded _the British Empire_ for longer than anyone alive. This capture would be the pinnacle of his career.

            This was the _Kirkland Prince_.

* * *

_Click. “Matthew Kirkland?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“This is the Ghost. I have your package.”_

_The sound of something shattering echoes through the phone’s speaker, and a commotion stirs around the glass breaker. Pale lips curled into a pleased smirk._

_“You’re not lying to me?”_

_“Of course not, sir. You’re the paying customer.”_

_“Send me the proof.”_

_Attachment downloaded. SMS sent. Beep!_

_There was a sharp inhale on the other end of the phone. Red eyes glanced down to the unconscious blond, watching him stir._

_“I’ll see you at the drop off. You’ll be richly rewarded if this is him.”_

_Red eyes glimmered, “I expect no less.”_

_Click._

* * *

            He woke amid conversation, and there was an arm slung around his shoulder. There weren’t any cuffs on his wrist, or any form of bond on his body…except for what he would swear was a _seatbelt_. There was a light silence with an underlying hum in the background that reminded him of the last time he’d been on an airplane…

            _No fucking way_.

            A hand skimmed down his arm, tightening lightly, _warningly_ , around his bicep, and there was a laugh from whomever he was leaning against as they drew their conversation to a close.

            “Good morning, kid,” an amused voice murmured into his ear, as soon as the person the other had been speaking to wandered far enough away, “Let’s get a few things straight before you ‘wake up,’ yeah?” And without waiting for any form of confirmation, the other continued, voice dipping lower, “You’re currently on a plane, you’re my bratty nephew, and I’m taking you home for a family emergency. I’ve injected a tracking device – nanotech, very awesome, very _expensive_ , but also very effective – into your bloodstream. For the two weeks, I will know your every move. Don’t try anything funny; don’t draw any attention to yourself. I have orders not to hurt _you_ , but that says nothing of anyone else who gets involved, hmm? Any questions?”

            He swallowed, letting his eyes blink open, taking in his surroundings blearily – _without_ his glasses, he noted, anxious – and straightened. He hesitated only for a second, before he turned to glare at the grinning man who’d literally snatched him from his own bed. “Who the fuck are you supposed to be?” he hissed, absently noting his captor’s unique coloring and dress, making a mental note to know who to avoid if he did get free.

            The albino sitting next to him flashed him a toothy grin, “Well, you can call me Uncle Gil on the plane. But most people know me as the Ghost.”

            There was no way to hide the way his face had gone white.

            The other man’s smile grew; slow, predatory, and unbelievably smug, “I take it you’ve heard of me, kiddo.”

            _Of course he’d heard of him – there wasn’t a single runaway who **didn’t** know who the Ghost was._

            He nodded dumbly, trying to regain the burn of anger that had swept over him when he’d first woken up, only to find it far out of reach.

            “Good,” Gil smirked, “Then you know what it means that your family hired me to find you.”

            Another nod.

            “Anyway I could convince you to let me go?” he asked after a moment, and even when the man turned to him, one brow raised in slight incredulity, he pushed, “Pretty please? With a cherry and everything.”

            The Ghost snorted, amusement sparking in his red eyes, “Nice try, kid. No one’s ever flat out asked me before though, so props.”

            He shrugged. Well, there had been no real harm in asking. He tried to relax into the chair – which was pretty comfortable, actually, for an economy class trans-Atlantic flight – and glanced out the half-opened window shield that showed the faintest traces of the sunlight on the horizon. His stomach dropped.

            _How long had he been gone? How far was he from home?_ And the even more heart stopping, mind numbingly terrifying question…

            _How long until they arrived?_

            He bit his lip, then yelped as an arm was slung around his shoulders, and he side-eyed a glare at the grinning albino freelancer.

            “I will bite you,” he growled, even as the man tugged him closer and laughed.

            “I think I’m gonna like you, kid,” he proclaimed, eyeing the way _Alfred_ was eyeing the arm that had invaded his personal space. Most of the time, he could _deal_ with people getting in his space – his friends were a touch feely group of people, and he adored them to death even though he did prefer his four-feet bubble, thank you – but this asshole had just kidnapped him and was dragging him half-way around the world to hand deliver him to his psychotic, overprotective, overly possessive family.

            Yeah, he would bite the bastard.

            As soon as he found a way out of this fuck up that was his life. There was _no way_ he was going to roll over and let the freelancer just drag him back to his family when he’d worked so hard to stay away from them and their purview. No way.

            Even if he had to outrun and outsmart the infamous Ghost himself.

* * *

           His chest heaved as he flew across the cobblestone streets. Converse were the worst thing to go trekking across badly maintained cobbled roads in the middle of Europe, but he’d prefer it to going barefoot. And damn it all, but if he wasn’t fast enough – cobblestone and aching feet be damned – the bastard was going to catch him again.

            It didn’t matter that the freelancer knew where he was – that the nanotech pulsing through his veins would give him away – no; the longer he could keep away, the longer he could bridge the distance between the two of them. The more time he had, the more time he could plan. And if he could _just_ get to the Embassy – to let the US consulate know that he wasn’t here of his own accord…they’d be able to contact the agency back home. They’d be able to get in touch with the agents who’d helped him escape into the states the first time around. Maybe they’d even have a solution for the stupid nanotech in his blood.

            At the very least, they’d contact Ivan for him. His partner, his _poor_ , poor lover, who wouldn’t have a single clue what was going on except for the fact that Alfred had literally vanished from their room in the middle of the night.

            He had to get back to Ivan. He _had to_.

            But first, he had to worry about the Ghost.

            It had been the miracle of all miracles when they’d had to split up at the airport. The Ghost had kept a solid arm around him the entire time, keeping him within grasping range when he had to let go for whatever reason. With no bags to speak of, only their passports and a phony drawstring bag on his back for show, they’d gone through the airport easily until they hit the immigration line.

            He was a US national with a US passport, so he couldn’t go through the EU line, and thank the lord, but the attendant had noticed Gil’s EU passport and forcefully directed him to the much, _much_ longer EU citizens only line.

            Thank god for the EU. There had only a handful of Americans on the flight he’d come in on, himself included, and only a few more from other countries outside EU jurisdiction. He’d been out of the immigration area before Gil could clear half the massive line, despite the fact that it was moving far faster than his was.

            He’d cleared out of the airport before the Ghost had finished the immigration line.

            And now, the Ghost was _pissed_.

            “ _Brat_ ,” a voice snarled out from his left and an arm shot out from just out of sight and lashed around him, yanking him towards its owners. A hand clapped around his mouth as he opened it to scream, barely blocking the shouts he volleyed. Furious, feeling hope drain as the elder, definitely stronger man pulled him into an alleyway, he bit down on the palm gagging him. _Viciously_.

            A yelp erupted from behind him, along with a muted, “Jesus _Christ_ , kid!” before he was whirled around, his arm seized and forced behind his back until he was pressed against the wall, whimpering at the pain that was suddenly setting fire to his blood. His other arm was caught, dragged behind him until the Ghost could pin them both down with one hand and _pressed_ until the pain was so much he couldn’t _breathe_.

            “ _Please_ ,” he said hoarsely, driven down at what felt like ages of the searing strain, and he could feel the red-eyed man’s grip tightening on his arms in surprise, “you _can’t_ take me back. _Please_.”

            “It’s nothing personal, kid,” the man sighed after a minute, releasing his arm, whirling him around to press his back firmly against the wall behind him, “It’s just another job. Your brother’s paying a very handsome fortune for your return, you know.”

            “My brother’s a grade a traitor,” he snarled, and there was genuine pain in his voice, “They’re going to get that fortune back the moment they sign the damned marriage contract! I’m going to be sold off to the highest bidder the moment I get back. I’m a fucking piece of _property_ to them!”

            There was a moment of silence that descended between the two of them, and Alfred desperately tried to take some hope in the way the elder man’s face twisted, not distraught but discomforted. The Ghost always returned kids to their families, even though he obviously sympathized with the kids whose hopes and dreams he was single-handedly destroying. But, he wondered, did the Ghost ever _learn_ what he was condemning his targets to the moment he fulfilled his contract? Did he care?

            “Look kid,” and this time there was a softness to his voice, “I can’t help you, even if I wanted to. I accepted the job, and your brother knows I have you. If I lose you now, I’ll get shafted with the blame and it’ll affect my life and my family. Not to mention what it’ll do to my reputation. Your father will come after me like he does for anyone who cheats that righteous bastard, especially if he finds out I let you go on purpose. I’m sorry, kid. There’s nothing I can do.”

            His face fell, even as the grip on his shoulder lightened, and an arm slung around his shoulders.

            “C’mon kid,” Gil said, something odd flashing across his eyes as he looked at him, “let’s get you inside. We’ve still got a night here before our next flight. You look like you need to catch some z’s.”

* * *

           Red eyes watched their sleeping captive once more, this time, a frown prevalent on the pale face. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, mussing it again. The words that had been thrown at him at their little confrontation echoed in his brain.

            _“Please. You can’t take me back!”_

_“I’m a fucking piece of **property** to them!”_

            And what hadn’t been said, but had been very clear in those crystal like blue eyes, that reminded him so very much of his baby brother…

            _Do you even care?_

He didn’t. He _shouldn’t_. He was a freelancer who made a living off of returning unwilling, sometimes downright terrified young people to their wealthy, influential families, no matter how awful said families were. He’d always closed his mind and his heart to the fates that befell his ‘targets’ and got the job done exactly as it had been requested of him. He’d drugged kids, he’d hog-tied them, he’d shipped them half way across the world without a single person being any wiser to their absence until they’d been safely returned to their homes.

            And he’d never, not _once_ , contemplated what would happen if he’d listened to those desperate pleas. He ignored any begging, any type of beseeching words that would tug on his heart strings and force him to confront the reason he wasn’t reacting at all. He clung to his reasoning: he was returning kids to their homes; he was reuniting families together.

            _“I’m a fucking piece of **property** to them!_ ”

            He flinched.

            Damn it. Damn it all.

            He snagged his cell phone and slipped outside the bedroom into the hallway of the small flat he’d rented for the night, dialing a number from memory and bringing it to his ear.

            He thought of beseeching blue eyes, desperate words, and a harsh, wordless accusation that burned him to the very core.

            He was a soldier, despite being a deviant. He did what he was told, he followed the instructions his client gave him, even if his _creativity_ allowed him to exploit his unique abilities to the fullest. And still…

            _Do you even care?_

            Soldiers weren’t supposed to have hearts; they weren’t supposed to have feelings, or act on emotions. He was a fantastic soldier, even when he’d rallied his whole life to prove he never _had_ to be one. And still…

            _Do you even care?_

            “ _Hello?_ ”

            “Toris? This is Gilbert.”

            “ _...not the Ghost today, my friend?_ ”

            “No. I think I need to call in a favor.”

            “… _I’m listening._ ”

            He glanced over at the sleeping blond, remembering blue eyes, bright hope, and the shattering soul…

            _Do you even care?_

            His fingers squeezed the tech in his hands and he breathed out sharply.

            _More than I ever should._

“I need your help, Toris.”

* * *

           France was as it always was, every time he came here. It was flamboyant and crowded, flocked with tourists galore, which made it the perfect venue for their meet up.

            The kid was unbound at his side – it was too risky to use any form of binding, too obvious to anyone who might look just a little too closely at what they were doing – but he’d learned his lesson about running off. And hopefully, this would help in the end.

            “Coffee’s here, kid,” he said, just as the waitress of the lovely little café they were sitting in brought their little tray of drinks. Alfred nearly snatched his coffee from him, and he smirked at the reverent gaze the drink was being gifted. Three days of plane travel in a row was _not_ something anyone would willingly subject themselves to if they had any other choice.

            “We’re meeting your brother here any minute,” he murmured softly, “so keep an eye out,” but wasn’t at all surprised when his statement only earned a pissed off growl and was dismissed without further adieu. Hmm, kid could hold a grudge. “Oh, and kid?” Alfred turned his head and caught red eyes evenly, bitterness swelling in burning blue, “Once I get my payment, you’re no longer under my jurisdiction.” A smirk twisted on pale lips as he caught the way blue eyes narrowed, “And last I checked…your brother doesn’t have access to nanotechnology, now does he?” Those eyes widened and he chuckled. He clapped a hand onto one shoulder, watching the teen jolt forward, and shoot him a side-eyed glare as he tried to stabilize his coffee to keep it from spilling.

            “How do I know he won’t ask you for the transmitter?” the teen murmured under his breath when he was close enough to hear, “ _He_ might not have access, but he can just ask you.”

            The albino snorted, “Like I’d give anyone access to that technology. I programmed that tech myself, like hell I’d let some whiny Family heir have a sample they could reverse engineer and cheat me out of my hard work.”

            Alfred eyed him suspiciously either way, and he couldn’t bring himself to blame the kid.

            “Cheer up, brat,” he smirked, “I’m giving you blanket permission to do whatever the fuck you please after I leave the vicinity. I just don’t want to get caught in the crossfire.”

            “You just want to get paid,” he volleyed back, “And you’re scared I’ll bite you again.”

            Gilbert glanced down at the edge of the bandages he’d wrapped around his hand peaking out at him from the bottom of his gloves. Well, the kid had a vicious bite, so he couldn’t say that was totally off…. But when he went to respond to the taunt, a voice called out to them, moving swiftly closer.

            “Alfred,” Matthew said, and if his voice was hoarse when he made eye contact with his younger brother, no one dared comment on it, “you really are here.”

            “Yeah,” the teenager said, leaning back in the café chair, crossing his arms in front of him, leveling a _look_ at Matthew as the other drew closer to snag the chair across from him, “and so are you, traitor. I’m seeing a definite problem here.”

            Gilbert snorted, smirking at the glares the three guards who’d arrived sent him, along with the irate glance Matthew threw him. “Brat’s got a good sense of humor on him,” he said, “He’s here, as I promised.”

            Matthew’s eyes met the freelancer’s red ones for a full minute, staring at the mischievous, grinning façade of the infamous hunter, before he nodded. “You did. You delivered just as we expected. You have our gratitude,” he declared, gesturing to one of the sitting guards on the side who slid a briefcase under the table so that it nudged against Gilbert’s leg.

            He slid out the briefcase with ease, tapping it with the detector he’d created that gave him the detailed summary of the case’s contents. He’d learned early on that people got snippy and insulted if you opened the case to count out what they gave you in front of them. The appropriate contents flashed on the tiny screen, and he smirked, tucking away the detector.

            He stood, reaching over to the kid and ruffled his hair, surprising both the kid and the Kirkland entourage. Matthew’s eyes narrowed, and the heir looked like he wanted to step between them, maybe even pull off his own affectionate little reunion. Alfred definitely seemed to have caught the movement, because his eyes narrowed in on his elder brother, and he said, “If you try to hug me, I’m going to bite you.”

            The three guards blinked and Matthew reared back a bit, surprised.

            Gilbert snorted, “He’ll do it too. The little bastard bit me so hard I was bleeding for over an hour.”

            “Cause you’re an ass,” he growled, and Gil laughed.

            “Damn,” he said through a bark of laughter, “I think I’m actually going to miss you, kid.” He ruffled his hair again, even with Alfred’s loud protests, “Call me if you ever need to, kid. I do more than just finding little runaways,” he smirked, leaned in so it looked like he was reaching over Alfred to pull out a fake tracking device from the teen’s wrist watch, and whispered, “wait for the commotion to begin. Don’t let the guards get ahold of you after that. You’ve got one shot, you’ll know who he is,” before he clapped the teen on the back, nodded to the entourage, collected the case, and moved towards the exit.

            _All up to you now, kid_ , he thought. His reputation would be intact, his family would profit, he’d gotten paid…and, hopefully, the kid would be safe.

            He was really starting to like this kid.

* * *

           They waited for maybe ten minutes before Matthew stood and gestured for the guards to grab a hold of him. Only one guard had an actual physical grip on him, the rest flanking the both of them, but their presence was intimidating anyone from looking too closely at what was going on.

            “The cuffs will have to wait until we get back to the car, sir,” one of the guards informed Matthew reluctantly, eyes scanning the crowds, “there are too many people to chance a glance at it.”

            “I understand,” his brother said, one eye still trained on Alfred, regardless of how awkward it made it to walk at the head of the small group. Alfred himself was glaring daggers of doom at both his traitorous brother and the guards flanking him on all sides. But inwardly, he was hoping whatever Gil had said would come into effect before they made it towards the car.

            It was admirable how much faith the Ghost seemed to have in his escape artist tendencies, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get out of handcuffs, rope, dodge around three guards, his brother, and escape an armored vehicle – which he had no doubt they would be using.

            And, of course, because Gil was awesome, and he timed things awesomely, _that_ was when something blew up barely half a block away, sending everyone nearby to the ground as the shockwaves rippled outwards.

            Used to strong explosions as a result of mishaps in his chemistry lab, Alfred was the first back on his feet, even before the guards had managed to gather themselves together, and he bolted backwards, towards the massive group of people fleeing. He could hear the loud English cursing behind him, and it was the only thing that told him the guards had noticed his sudden movement. But it was easy enough to be swallowed by the crowd, and even easier to slide into an alleyway when dust and debris billowed through the air, covering everything in a big, blocked cloud.

            In the commotion, it hadn’t been a surprise at all to see others running in the same direction he was. It _had_ been a surprise, however, when someone latched onto his arm and dragged him down another street. Before he could do much of anything, he was released. He whirled around to see a young man, older than he was definitely, with a kind face and warm green eyes smiling at him.

            “I owed Gil a favor,” he said softly, but there was an odd light to the smile on his face, “but I think, if he’d told me who you were, I would’ve done it anyways. There’s a cab bank two streets over, decent foot traffic if you take the alleyway.” Suddenly, a small bag was shoved into his hands, and he gaped when a quick glance noted his _passport_ , of all things, to be inside, along with a decent amount of cash, directions, _and_ a plane ticket.

            _This was planned_.

            “Wha -?!”

            “Go,” the green-eyed man ordered, shoving him towards the alleyway he’d pointed out, “No one was hurt, it’s just a distraction. One you _can’t_ afford to waste. Go!” He disappeared into the opposite street, just as pedestrians flooded the area seeking shelter from the explosion’s commotion. So, he did the only thing he could do.

            He ran.

* * *

           Ivan was waiting for him at the arrivals section, and he practically tackled the elder, wrapping himself around him like he never wanted to let go.

            He never knew how to explain what had happened, but Ivan both didn’t _want_ to know, and made it blatantly clear he never wanted it to happen again. He’d been wrapped in cotton wool, smothered with affection, with loving kisses, gentle hugs, and Ivan’s undivided attention. He never noticed the people that hung around them just a _smidge_ too long to have done so unintentionally. He didn’t notice Ivan’s gaze turn from loving to dangerous whenever they left his form, searching for any threats to his person. He didn’t notice that the very man who’d helped him slip away from his brother in Paris had reported a very worried concern to Ivan while he’d bounced off to change once they’d gotten home.

            He never noticed any of it, and Ivan believed his own precious secret to have remained undiscovered in the wake of a kidnapping he thought himself at fault for. So the two kept hurtling on a crash course to awareness, blissfully ignorant until the time would come.

            But that was okay. For now.


End file.
